The summer of 1976
by PsychologyGeek81
Summary: It's 1976 and a heat wave has settled across Britain, which the Death Eaters are finding brings many different problems.
1. Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange

**Author's note: So I got this idea from the heat wave when I found out that the last time we had one this bad was 1976, which was during the first wizarding war. I plan to make this story about five or six chapters long.**

The sun had finally gone down, pale blue sky going darker and merging with hues of purple as the moon rose. The sun had unfortunately not taken the heat with it, as thick, sticky air made its way in through every open window in the front bedroom of Lestrange manor's east wing. The sun had been a relentless presence across Britain for the last six weeks, bringing sweltering days and uncomfortable nights that didn't show any signs of disappearing.

Bellatrix sighed, adjusting the sliver of emerald silk draped over her naked body as it stuck to her sweat soaked skin. She absolutely detested the heat, and the fact that there was no escape from it chipped away at her already low patience. Her body felt flushed as the night air licked over her, strands of hair sticking to her face and neck. She closed her eyes against the discomfort from the sheets plastering themselves to her, before turning to look at Rodolphus, who was lying on the other side of the bed.

"You need to go and sleep in a different room," she huffed, not angrily, but frustrated. The heat had been causing a problem. It wasn't a problem exactly, but it certainly was not making the heat wave any easier to tolerate. As it was incredibly hot outside, leaving the house became difficult. Long sleeved robes became drenched with sweat in minutes and short sleeved robes weren't an option since both of them wore very incriminating tattoos on their forearms.

Remaining inside the mansion wasn't much better. Despite the elf's best efforts, the house was still roasting inside, and Bellatrix was incredibly restless since the Dark Lord had left for Albania without telling a single person why. She'd asked everyone, nobody knew. They had all been ordered not to act until his return, which hadn't put her in the best of moods, and then the summer heat intensified. Her need for action went unreleased, building inside her as each day wasted past. Recently she'd found some release through Rodolphus, but her chosen method wasn't exactly compatible with the heat.

Rodolphus scoffed as he considered his wife's suggestion, amused by its audacity. He turned his head to face her, resting his cheek against the arm that was tucked behind his head. Meeting her eyes, he noticed how unimpressed with him for laughing at her suggestion she was. He fought a smirk. "I'm not being kicked out of my bedroom simply because you can't control yourself."

"Don't you dare act like this has come entirely from me," Bellatrix argued, feeling her chest grow warmer. The fact that she'd taken to wearing her silk nightdresses during the day probably hadn't helped him, but he'd begun wandering around the manor topless long before that, and the pettier parts of herself wanted to show him how annoyingly distracting it was. Bellatrix sighed again. None of this would have happened if it wasn't so damn hot, and if the heat hadn't made the other Death Eaters start hosting parties.

As soon as the summer had shown itself to be a good one, the garden parties began. Each rich pureblooded family took turns hosting, and all other wealthy purebloods were expected to attend. This became a problem when the heat got stronger, as long sleeves became completely intolerable, which meant that only other Death Eaters could attend the parties. Bellatrix and Rodolphus both hated social gatherings, and often ended up making their own amusement while in attendance, either through alcohol or an empty room, as they had done as Yaxley's garden party three weeks ago.

" _Is this the right one?" asked Bellatrix, squinting at the large red stone house at the bottom of the drive that she, Rodolphus and Rabastan were travelling down._

" _I think so," answered Rodolphus, stepping out of the shade from the hedges to peer down the drive. "Although I haven't been here since I was ten."_

" _It's the right one," added Rabastan as the house grew nearer. The house in question belonged to Corban Yaxley, a fellow Death Eater who worked within the ministry. He'd been a close family friend of the Lestrange's since he'd started working at the ministry and was mentored by Rodolphus and Rabastan's father. He was hosting what was sure to be the first of many garden parties to occur this summer. His house was isolated, down a long driveway off a country road, as most wealthy pureblood's houses were._

 _The trio reached the end of the drive, Bellatrix immediately annoyed with being thrust back into the sun's direct path, as the hedges and trees lining the drive had provided shade. A round topiary hedge sat in the middle of the mouth of the drive, surrounded by gravel. They walked around it, the unrelenting heat bearing down on them. Rabastan knocked on the door when they stopped in front of it, knowing that since the guest list was exclusive, Yaxley most likely would not have left the door unlocked._

" _Good afternoon," greeted Yaxley once he opened the door. The relief at the escape from the heat was instant, and all three of them looked visibly happy to be out of the sun. Yaxley shook hands with Rodolphus and Rabastan, and gently took Bellatrix's before raising it slightly. She smiled. Yaxley was one of the few inner circle Death Eaters that she didn't despise. Most of the others were nosy, pathetic and insecure little boys that couldn't handle the fact that a woman did their job better than they did._

 _Bellatrix pretended to listen to Rabastan make small talk in the foyer with Yaxley until he disappeared, and then informed Rodolphus that she was going to look and see if Narcissa and Lucius had arrived yet. She wandered around the house, taking her time exploring each room and assessing their quality, before finding Narcissa and Lucius sat out on the patio with their cousin, Evan Rosier._

 _As soon as she spotted her, Narcissa rose from the chair she was in and sped over to Bellatrix, clasping their hands together as she complimented her dress. Narcissa hadn't taken the mark, so sleeves weren't an issue for her. Bellatrix wasn't too concerned about having to keep her arms covered as summers were never usually hot enough for it to become a problem, but now it was._

" _You look so lovely when you're not having to cover your arms," mused Narcissa as she studied her sisters dress, leading her over to the iron table where Lucius and Evan sat._

" _Thank you Cissy," Bellatrix replied half heartedly as she was led across the patio. Once she arrived at the table, she greeted her cousin Evan with a kiss on the cheek, and gave Lucius a curt greeting. It was no secret that Bellatrix largely disliked Lucius, but she tolerated his presence for Narcissa's sake, as she had been truly lucky in marrying somebody that she fully, completely loved._

" _You on your own?" asked Evan, his fingers resting at the bottom of his wine glass._

" _No," answered Bellatrix. "He's in there with his brother." She glanced towards the house. "Could you get me a drink?"_

" _Sure," replied Evan, silently summoning a floating tray of drinks over to them. Bellatrix took one._

 _An hour and a half passed, and Bellatrix had grown immeasurably bored of listening to Lucius and Evan dominating the conversation by talking about ministry work, Narcissa attempting to make conversation by bringing up idle gossip, and the gramophone music that was projected through the garden. In addition to her boredom, Bellatrix was completely fed up with the heat. Her dress was stuck to her, her hair had doubled in size from the humidity, and the champagne had left her feeling dehydrated. She'd had enough._

" _I'm going inside," she huffed, rising from her chair. The other guests at the table turned and stared at her._

" _But why?" pouted Narcissa as she looked up at her sister. Bellatrix knew that Narcissa didn't want to be the only one left listening to the conversation, and there were very few other women for her to socialise with, but she didn't have any sympathy. It had been her decision to marry one of the most boring men alive._

" _Because I am not sitting here this sweaty and getting nothing out of it," she explained before leaving, wondering how long it would take Lucius to figure out she'd just insulted him as she sauntered into the house._

 _She peered cautiously in doorways, checking each room she passed for its occupants. She was searching for one person, and didn't want to have to engage with anybody else. There were faces she recognised, and a few that she didn't. Death Eaters were generally divided into soldiers, spies and recruiters, with most inner circle members falling into at least two of those categories. Nobody knew the exact number of followers the Dark Lord had, and Bellatrix preferred it that way, less people to interact with. She eventually found Rodolphus in one of the lounges at the front of the house, stood by a table engaged in conversation with Jugson._

" _Hi there," she said slowly, announcing her presence as she walked over to them._

" _You're being summoned," joked Jugson, not even glancing in Bellatrix's direction. Bellatrix rolled her eyes._

" _Can I have a word?" she drawled, keeping her contempt for Jugson locked back, ignoring his presence. She'd deal with him in a minute._

" _Sure," said Rodolphus, turning his attention away from Jugson and towards Bellatrix. Behind them, Jugson snickered._

" _I just wanted to let you know that I was getting rather bored," stated Bellatrix, raising her eyebrows slightly. This had become somewhat of a code phrase between the two of them. "That's all."_

" _Okay," replied Rodolphus, his eyes darkening as he looked at her. The fact that Jugson had no idea what they were discussing appeared to amuse the both of them._

"' _bout to drag you off home is she?" laughed Jugson, catching Bellatrix's attention. She turned around and stepped in front of Rodolphus, putting space between the two men._

" _Ah Jugson," she sighed, meeting his eyes fiercely as she moved closer to him. "Your tired attempts at humour are really quite pathetic, and my intensions are none of your business." She took another step closer, enjoying the slivers of fear projected from his eyes as she locked him in place. "And if I hear another word out of your mouth while I'm trying have a conversation with my husband, I'll take great pleasure in sewing it shut." Jugson swallowed. She smiled wolfishly. If they were all so afraid of her, then they really should know better than to irritate her._

" _Anyway," Bellatrix continued, the low, intimidating tone she'd used on Jugson completely gone from her voice. She whipped back round to face Rodolphus, who was failing to contain a smirk._

" _When you're finished with what I'm sure was an_ enthralling _conversation." Bellatrix shot Jugson a disdainful look over her shoulder. "You know what to do." She finished with a grin, watching Rodolphus bite his lip as their eyes connected before she slipped out of the room, knowing that his eyes were following her._

 _Bellatrix went straight upstairs to Yaxley's library, having explored the upper floors of the house earlier. There was nobody up here apart from the occasional person using the bathroom, it was the perfect place to escape the forced and false nature of the party downstairs. The room wasn't as big as the library back home, it was closer to the size of their potions supply cupboard, but it was covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves. The only wall that wasn't contained a window that looked out onto the front drive. Bellatrix pulled the curtains closed._

 _After searching the room for any hidden bottles or decanters of alcohol, Bellatrix took to studying the shelves while she waited. Time seemed to slow down as she examined the worn spines of the books that adorned Yaxley's shelves, making a note of each title she didn't recognise. She'd barely made it halfway along the first wall of books when the door creaked open and Rodolphus walked in._

" _Was this the first room you checked?" asked Bellatrix without even turning around, her eyes still drawn to leather spines._

" _Yes," answered Rodolphus. Bellatrix finally turned around._

" _How did you know?"_

" _Your obsession with libraries," Rodolphus replied, amusement lacing his voice. Bellatrix watched his eyes roam around the room, landing on the black leather couch parallel to the window. This was a well rehearsed routine of theirs, and since he didn't see large bottle of wine or whiskey sat on the small table in the middle of the room, he knew what she had planned._

" _Interesting choice," said Rodolphus, making two steps closer to Bellatrix. She let out a low laugh._

" _I thought it might look suspicious, me sneaking in and out of bedrooms," she answered, tilting her head slightly. "The idiots downstairs with their speculative little minds may not have been able to contain themselves." Rodolphus laughed. They both knew that the nature of their relationship was a frequent topic of gossip amongst the other Death Eaters, which was one of the reasons neither of them liked the others much at all. Their whispers and invasive questions had often resulted in them getting themselves tortured, sometimes by the both of them. In situations like this one, where neither of them wanted to be there surrounded by false acquaintances, they were each other's only ally._

" _Were you aware that the door doesn't lock when you chose this room?"_

" _Nothing the usual trick won't fix," grinned Bellatrix, pulling her wand from the pockets of her dress and charming the doorknob to heat up if touched. Afterwards she set her wand down on the table._

" _There," she said slowly, biting her lip as she looked him up and down. The sleeves of his khaki robes were pushed up to his elbows, and the light material was tight around his chest and shoulders. She walked over to him slowly, grabbing the front of his robes as she kissed him._

The same thing had happened at Evan's party three days later, and the party after that, and when Rodolphus had decided to forgo wearing anything that covered his top half around the house.

"Okay, I'll admit partial guilt here," replied Rodolphus, and Bellatrix could sense that his point wasn't finished. She could feel further frustration fuse with the heat in her chest over words he hadn't even said yet. "But you can't deny the disproportionate influence."

"Disproportionate?" spat Bellatrix, her frustration doubling. She sat up, her outrage propelling her into movement. Looking down at Rodolphus, she felt her hands itch, like they were aching to slap his face. The tension around his mouth where he was trying not to laugh only added to her desire, so she looked away, making the mistake of looking away from his face and focusing on his upper body.

She looked at his arms, big and tanned and littered with scars, many of them from her. They were tucked arrogantly behind his head as he looked up at her, staring like he could hear every thought in her head, his eyes filled with smug satisfaction. The sheets had also moved when she sat up, exposing his stomach. Bellatrix pulled her eyes away, adrenaline simmering in her blood.

"No, I'm not arguing with you on this," she continued, as calmly as she could manage, refusing to look at him. "Just move."

"Make me," he replied, the tone of his voice making Bellatrix contemplate smothering him with a pillow. She squeezed her eyes shut in exasperation before shooting him a glare. He looked very amused.

"You're not helping," hissed Bellatrix, irritation making her feel even hotter in the muggy air. Rodolphus let the satisfaction disappear from his face, but kept a glimmer of it in his eyes as he leaned up on his elbows.

"You move," he countered, watching Bellatrix's eyes widen like he'd just insulted her. "This was my room long before it was yours. Why should I be the one to leave?" He tried not to smile as he watched her lips fall into a thin line, knowing that he was right but refusing to give in. She was about to change the subject, he knew she was. Her pride made her very predictable during arguments.

Her eyes stayed on his, tearing away as the silence got longer and no rebuttal came. Rodolphus watched her gaze briefly trail over the upper half of his body, lingering on his shoulder and upper arms, before she sighed loudly and abruptly got out of bed.

"I'm not leaving," insisted Bellatrix as she walked around the front of their massive four poster bed. Rodolphus lay back down against the pillows, positioning his arms back behind his head.

"Then where are you going?" he asked, anticipating a stormy response.

"For a cold shower," she answered, surprisingly calmly. Rodolphus would've almost been impressed, if she hadn't just handed the perfect tool to destroy her act of composure.

"Want me to join you?" he asked teasingly, enjoying the sight of her eyes widening and her jaw clenching in frustration. The emotional intimacy had all but disappeared from their relationship ever since they joined the Death Eaters, but Rodolphus had grown to understand why she enjoyed toying with people so much, especially him. There was something to be said for watching the person in front of you lose all composure while you remain perfectly calm.

Bellatrix stormed over to the dresser on the other side of the room, grabbed her wand from the top of it, and cast a non verbal water conjuring spell directly at his chest.

"There," she said, false sweetness lacing her voice as she watched him recoil at the spell's impact. "Now you've had one too."

Rodolphus simply laughed as Bellatrix left the room, the jet of water an unexpected relief against the sticky heat of the room. He shook his head, feeling the water already drying over his skin. The others sometimes looked at him like he was mad for willingly arguing with Bellatrix, but he knew her well enough to know when it was safe. The others didn't have that skill.

He laughed to himself once more, picturing the looks on their faces if they could see them now and realise that this was her on a good day. Not only a good day, but the best running streak of good days that they'd had in years.


	2. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy

Lucius Malfoy sauntered through the doors of his bedroom suite, tearing off his clothes as he moved. The dark garments fell to the floor piece by piece, leaving a trail of fabric from the door to the en suite bathroom. Once he was surrounded by the bone white tiles that decorated the small bathroom, he felt slightly cooler. He examined himself in the bathroom mirror, grimacing at the sweat that dripped from his face and dampened his hair, before climbing into the shower.

He had done this exact walk once he got in from work every day for the last four weeks. The summer heat was unexpectedly brutal, and the ministry offices provided no relief from the sticky, oppressive air. It had been manageable at first, pleasant even, but then something shifted. The heat became so intense that he was unable to accompany Narcissa to Diagon Alley on the weekends, because wearing long sleeves was no longer an option unless you liked your clothes on the sweat soaked side, which Lucius most certainly did not. The black tattoo on his left forearm was becoming a problem.

At least they were on a no action order. Lucius didn't think he'd be able to cope with participating in raids at these temperatures. That heat mixed with the smell of blood, just the thought of it made his stomach clench. The Dark Lord had decided that the start of the heat wave was a fantastic time to take a solo holiday to Albania and tell nobody the reason why. Lucius suspected that he was doing something, but knew it wasn't his place to question the Dark Lord's lack of disclosure. Regardless of his reasons for leaving, he'd ordered the Death Eaters not to act in his absence. They were permitted to meet, to plot, since their plans had hit a stalemate, but not to act until he was there to oversee. Lucius knew that this was a test of loyalty, to see who would listen and who would go rogue, and Lucius was perfectly happy obeying.

Once he was finished in the shower, Lucius dried himself and put on his silk robe. He exited the bathroom, finding Narcissa sat on the couch in their bedroom, a self moving hand fan floating beside her head.

"How was work darling?" she asked

"Hot," he answered, clearly frustrated by the weather. "They really should do something about the lack of heat control, some of the older employees may start fainting." He paused, blinking in consideration. "I may start fainting."

"I'm sure you're not going to faint at work Lucius," sighed Narcissa.

"Well if I do they will most certainly be hearing about it," Lucius replied sternly. "It's dangerous."

"I think you've faced worse dangers," said Narcissa.

"What," scoffed Lucius. "Like your sister."

"Lucius," scolded Narcissa.

"I was only being truthful," he argued. "The woman is-"

"Still my sister Lucius," she reminded him, firmness replacing the usual softness of her voice.

"I know," he sighed, before wrinkling his nose as a thought came to mind. "Which reminds me, did you ask if she and husband of hers were responsible for the two missing bottles of brandy from my private collection?"

"It's two bottles of brandy Lucius," responded Narcissa, trying not to sound bored. During the clean up from their garden party three days ago, it was revealed that some of Lucius's private brandy collection had been taken. He'd talked about almost nothing else since. "I'm sure you won't miss them."

"But they were my bottles of brandy Narcissa," argued Lucius, almost whining. "They weren't for guests. They were expensive and of very high quality."

"I'm sure if it was them then they'll replace the bottles," said Narcissa, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm not," scoffed Lucius.

"I'll make sure they do," Narcissa replied, a stern tone to her voice. Narcissa then cleared her throat. "If it was them, that is. It could have been any of the guests."

"I know," said Lucius. "But it's not as if they don't have form." Narcissa sighed.

"Can we forget my sister and the case of the missing brandy now," she said, her voice raising slightly. "I'm sure there are more interesting things to discuss."

"Of course," Lucius responded, his voice less harsh. "How was your day dearest?"

"Perfectly fine," answered Narcissa, clearly happy that he'd changed the subject. "My mother is okay now that my father is out of St Mungo's with no permanent issues."

"Good."

"It's been hot," she continued. "But I've managed."

"I was wondering if you wanted to accompany me for a swim after dinner?" asked Narcissa, low sultry tones lacing her voice. Lucius hummed.

"I'm not sure."

"If this is about last time," Narcissa began.

"It's not," Lucius interjected. "I've just showered, that's all." Lucius smoothed his silk robe. "I wouldn't want to have to wash my hair again."

"That seems like an excuse," said Narcissa, shooting him a look. "And a poor one at that."

"It isn't," he insisted.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Narcissa."

"It won't happen again," said Narcissa, smiling as the image returned to her. "And it wasn't even that green."

"It was too green for my liking," huffed Lucius.

"Lucius," laughed Narcissa.

"It took two days to fade."

"Didn't you buy that potion?" asked Narcissa, raising her eyebrows.

"You're right, I did," Lucius replied, now remembering the hair protection potion he'd purchased Monday after work. "In that case I will join you."

"Good," said Narcissa, a satisfied smile lighting up her face.

"Anyway, the damage from that little incident." Lucius grimaced. "Has already been done," he began. "Your sister saw it, so now I'll be reminded of it for the next year and a half, at least."

 _Blissfully cold water engulfed Lucius as he dove into the pool, swiftly removing and feelings of sweatiness and discomfort. The rectangular pool was located at the bottom of the back patio, down a set of stone steps, and ran parallel to the manor. Lucius surfaced, sweeping the cool water out of his eyes before he swam over to Narcissa, who was leaning against the wall, her arms resting on the pool's edge._

" _I've been waiting to get in here all morning," said Lucius, stopping in front of Narcissa so their legs brushed against each other. His platinum blond hair, which was up in a ponytail, fanned out over one shoulder in the water._

" _It's been wonderful having the pool in this heat," replied Narcissa, removing her arms from outside the pool and placing them in the water, dipping her shoulders in after. "I almost feel sorry for those who don't have one." Narcissa inched past Lucius and started gracefully swimming to the other end of the pool. Lucius quickly turned and followed her._

" _I agree that having the pool has been a pleasurable luxury," continued Lucius once he'd caught up to Narcissa, who was treading water with slow waves of her arms. "And to think that I questioned why father hadn't had the thing filled in."_

" _It's a good thing you didn't convince him to do so," said Narcissa, sounding almost outraged at the prospect. "Otherwise we would have had to go to the Flint's."_

" _Michael isn't that bad," argued Lucius, knowing that Narcissa wasn't overly keen on his friend. "He would definitely have let us borrow his pool." Lucius and Michael worked together, and had been friends at Hogwarts, despite being two years older than Lucius. Narcissa had never liked him, and said that she found him lecherous and uncomfortable._

" _He has a one year old child who is bound to be struggling in the heat," countered Narcissa, watching Lucius narrow his eyes at her as she gave her response. "So even if he would have let us share his pool." There was a hint of contempt to her voice. "I'm sure their boy would need it more than us."_

" _It's a good thing we have our own pool then," Lucius responded, disagreement with his wife's staunch position against his friend evident in his voice._

" _That it is," agreed Narcissa, smiling widely._

" _Have you been sharing our pool with anyone?" asked Lucius, wondering if anyone had been enjoying his property while he was at work all week._

" _Elizabeth Parkinson has been over a few times since the start of the summer," explained Narcissa, pursing her lips as she thought. "And Bella has been over quite a few times." Lucius tried and failed to hide the look of displeasure on his face at the mention of Narcissa's sister._

" _Was she alone?" he asked, trying to sound interested and not to look at the curve of Narcissa's raised eyebrows. Narcissa was perfectly aware that Lucius couldn't stand her sister Bellatrix, and merely tolerated her being around for her sake, but she didn't like to hear him openly complain about or badmouth her, which usually resulted in the glowering look she was giving Lucius now._

" _Sometimes," answered Narcissa, maintaining her scrunitous gaze. "And you do remember that they're coming over this morning, don't you Lucius?"_

" _Yes," he sighed. That's why he'd been looking forward to swimming so much, he wanted an hour of leisurely peace before their guests arrived._

" _Good," Narcissa said smugly._

" _That's why wanted to get you down here," Lucius continued, moving closer to Narcissa and placing his hands on her waist. "So I could spend some time alone with you before they arrived." Narcissa pulled her eyes away from his briefly, glancing down at the water. She took Lucius's hands in hers._

" _You'll have to catch me first darling," she teased, giggling as she tore his hands away from her and swam towards the other end of the pool._

 _Lucius grinned as he took off after her, gliding through the water at a speed that almost matched hers. Once they were at the other end, he grabbed her feet, laughing at the dainty squeak that came out of her mouth as he pulled her towards him by her legs. She wrapped them around his waist once she registered that he'd caught her._

" _Caught you," said Lucius, his voice low. Narcissa pursed her lips, noticing that Lucius was moving the two of them towards the corner of the pool._

" _So you did," she replied, blinking water out of her eyes before leaning in to kiss him. They stayed in the corner of the pool, kissing and pulling each other closer, for a good few minutes until a squeaking sound in the distance caught their attention._

" _Did you hear that?" asked Narcissa, uneasiness swiftly replacing the warmth that was flowing though her body._

" _Yes," agreed Lucius, loosening his grip on her slightly. "It sounded like-"_

" _Master," shouted Dobby, the Malfoy house elf, who was running down the patio steps. Lucius and Narcissa pulled further apart. "Master, you have-" The small house elf was followed by two figures, the bottoms of their robes flowing behind them as they followed Dobby down off the patio. "Guests." Lucius's eyes followed the robes up, and were met with the matching judgemental expressions of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. He mentally cursed._

" _Good morning," said Bellatrix with such false sweetness that Lucius could already feel a headache forming. "Now if you wouldn't mind putting my sister down, you slobbering over her isn't exactly what I wanted to see at this time."_

 _Lucius felt his face ignite, with both anger and embarrassment._ Well you aren't exactly what I wanted to see at this time _, he fumed to himself, gently letting go of Narcissa. Dobby scarpered back inside._

" _What are you doing here?" asked Lucius, trying not to let the words come out as an irritated hiss._

" _You invited us," answered Rodolphus, with a subtly patronising tone that didn't go unnoticed._

" _You're over an hour early," replied Lucius, keeping his frustration as reigned in as possible, which was a challenge, since his patience was being rapidly sucked down the pool filter. They'd not even been here five minutes._

" _We needed to get out of the house," explained Bellatrix, whose tone made it clear that there was much more_ complicated _reason for their unexpected arrival._

" _The elf knocked her water over and she threatened to kill it," Rodolphus added bluntly, almost sounding bored, like this was a daily occurrence._

" _I see," said Lucius, wincing slightly. He tried to meet Narcissa's eyes discreetly to make her aware of his disapproval, but they were both watching him too closely. He felt exposed._

" _It wasn't just that," said Bellatrix hastily, more to express annoyance at being painted as the sole reason they left early than as a reassurance to Lucius and Narcissa that she wasn't in one of her moods._

" _It's fine, honestly," insisted Narcissa, smiling up at them. "It can't be easy being limited on where you can go in this heat." Lucius tried not to scoff. He still managed to go to work every day with his mark covered in the sticky heat._

" _I would have thought you'd still be in bed," Lucius began to add, "What with it being nine thirty on a Saturday." Bellatrix opened her mouth slightly, as if she was about to say something, and then closed it quickly, exchanging a glance with Rodolphus._

" _It isn't exactly easy to sleep in this heat," answered Rodolphus. The corners of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. Clearly whatever Bellatrix had almost said would have been amusing._

" _I know," said Narcissa, the pitch of her voice rising in agreement. "And the two of you must getting under each other's feet at home."_

" _You could say that," replied Rodolphus, tiny hints of amusement lingering in his voice. He and Bellatrix exchanged another glance, and Lucius decided that whatever private joke they were sharing, he was better off not knowing. With those two, he rarely wasn't._

" _We'll get out now," said Narcissa, and Lucius felt his frustration over the situation double. His face felt so hot that he though steam might rise if he dunked it underwater. "You can go and wait for us in the drawing room."_

 _After that they started to walk inside, Narcissa turned to Lucius apologetically. "I'm sorry."_

" _It isn't your fault," he sighed, clearly disappointed, making sure that she knew that he wasn't angry with her. They got out of the pool, cast drying spells on themselves and then went upstairs to get changed. Lucius was ready first, and he waited for Narcissa as she applied a quick coat of make up in the bathroom. Once they were ready, they headed downstairs._

" _Have you eaten?" Narcissa asked her sister and brother in law once they were in the drawing room, noticing a pot of tea and two cups, but no food._

" _We have," confirmed Bellatrix, who had one of Narcissa's self operating hand fans beside her head._

" _Good," Narcissa replied, sitting down in one of the armchairs opposite the couch that their guests were sat on. The only space left was the chair catching the light from the windows. Lucius chuckled to himself, thinking it typical that he got the one seat in the sun, given how his luck was going this morning._

" _So what's the plan?" Bellatrix asked Narcissa. In all his annoyance Lucius forgot that there was an actual purpose to their visit. They were helping finalize the plans for the garden party that he and Narcissa were throwing tomorrow afternoon. Narcissa knew that Bellatrix was eager for things to do while the Dark Lord had disappeared, so she agreed to let her assist with the planning. Rodolphus was just there so Lucius wasn't alone all day._

" _Well," began Narcissa, folding one leg over the other as she got comfortable in her chair. "I have the list of guests to check, the food to check, the decorations to organise and place, and a selection of dresses upstairs so you can help me choose which one to wear." Bellatrix didn't look overly pleased, but it was clearly better than doing nothing._

" _They can just do whatever it is that men do," added Narcissa, motioning to Lucius and Rodolphus. Lucius forced a smile. While his brother in law was certainly less intimidating than his wife, there was still something about him that unnerved Lucius. He was a very big man, almost a head taller than Lucius and made up of broad shoulders and muscular arms, which was intimidating enough, but he also seemed completely unbothered by anything. The drawing room could be on fire right now and he'd give it as much consideration as the morning newspaper._

 _Lucius wasn't aware that everyone else was staring at him until he heard Bellatrix snicker loudly. He looked over, noticing Rodolphus laughing too, albeit silently. Narcissa was biting her lip and shooting him a surprised and apologetic glance._

" _What?" demanded Lucius with a huff._

" _Um," managed Rodolphus before he started laughing again. Bellatrix was laughing too hard to say anything at all. "You do know that your hair is green, right?"_

" _Excuse me," stammered Lucius, shooting him a warning glance. Rodolphus nodded, making sure Lucius knew that he wasn't lying. He pulled his ponytail over his shoulder to examine what he could of his hair, gasping in horror when he saw that it was tinged a mossy green colour._

That moment had been interrupted by the family owl flying in with a letter from Narcissa's mother. Her father had collapsed and was in St Mungo's. Lucius was left to handle Narcissa's lists while she and Bellatrix went to the hospital.

"I'm sure she'll soon forget about it," Narcissa reassured him, offering him a warm smile. "Now you should probably get changed, unless you plan on wearing your silk robe at the dinner table."

"I don't," replied Lucius, striding over to the walk in wardrobe on the other side of the room.

"And don't forget to put that potion on your hair before we go swimming," called Narcissa, playful amusement lacing her voice this time.

"I won't," said Lucius, knowing that he was never going to risk having green hair ever again.


	3. Karkaroff and Dolohov

Igor Karkaroff took a sip of ice cold pumpkin juice from the slightly dirty glass in front of him, watching Antonin Dolohov do the same from the other side of the small wooden table they both sat at. He sighed, the cool sweetness offering temporary relief against the thick humidity that permeated the cottage. He had arrived back in England four weeks ago after spending most of the year working in Norway translating old texts into Russian for Durmstrang Wizarding School. Since arriving back in the country, he'd found the uncharacteristically intense heat wave somewhat difficult to cope with. He'd spent most of the year working in sub zero temperatures, arriving in England had been like deciding to take a swim in a boiling cauldron.

Dolohov let out a hissing laugh as he watched Karkaroff greedily return to the glass and drain half of it, noting the sweat sticking the man's dark hair to his face. Dolohov wasn't a fan of the heat either, but he'd had time to adjust, and his cottage was well shaded by the surrounding hedges and trees so the sun didn't leak in through the windows. Although the air was still disgustingly humid, but in his own cottage he didn't need to worry about people catching sight of the prominent marker of affiliation with the Dark Lord tattooed on his arm.

"I see you've been enjoying the heat during your visit?" said Dolohov sarcastically between sips of pumpkin juice. He didn't usually drink anything without a small percentage of alcohol, but it was far too sticky for the sickly taste of butterbeer, and he knew that Karkaroff wouldn't suggest cracking open the bottle of whiskey he'd brought with him until well into the afternoon.

"Don't," grumbled Karkaroff, meeting Dolohov's eyes, which gleamed with amusement at the younger man's suffering. "My place gets so much sunlight through the windows it's unbearable."

"That's why having a shaded cottage in the middle of the countryside has been a great benefit," replied Dolohov, still annoyingly smug. Dolohov's cottage was so surrounded by greenery that if Karkaroff hadn't been there before, he would have thought the place to be completely abandoned, or missed it completely. It was relatively small with ivy covering three of its four sides, hidden off a country lane and surrounded by hedges. It had been sheltered well from the sun during the summer.

"Well it's easier for you since you live here," replied Karkaroff, wiping a thick sheen of sweat from his forehead, wishing he'd had the forethought to tie back his hair. "This is supposed to be my holiday. If I'd wanted to be this hot then I would have gone to Egypt to translate hieroglyphics."

"You and I both know that this was more than just a leisure trip Igor," said Dolohov, draining his glass with a sinister look. "Or it would have been, if we weren't ordered into inactivity."

"Do you have any information on where he is or why he's gone?" Karkaroff asked, eyeing the glass jug half filled with pumpkin juice on the kitchen counter at the other side of the room. It did seem strange that the Dark lord had decided to leave the country so suddenly, unless he was up to something. Karkaroff hadn't given it much consideration when he first arrived, until Dolohov mentioned the no action order. That had put a stop in their plans, but he was still pleased at the chance to see everyone again.

"No," Dolohov answered. "Nobody knows, not even his little pet." Dolohov paused and laughed. "She even asked me if I knew what was going on." Karkaroff's eyes fell to the thin white line that laced one side of Dolohov's throat, the one that was put there by the person in question. He'd never had any personal issues with her, but Dolohov absolutely hated her.

"Well if none of us know," began Karkaroff, rolling the sleeves of his robes even further up his arms. "Then maybe we shouldn't speculate."

"I guess you're right," replied Dolohov, brushing his hair out of his eyes. It didn't look anywhere near as sweat soaked as Karkaroff's, and if he were a less vain man, that wouldn't have concerned him. "But not being able to act is getting rather frustrating. I just hope that he returns soon."

"Me too Antonin," agreed Karkaroff. "I would like to meet with him before I return to Durmstrang."

"I think I heard him say that he was eager to meet with you too," said Dolohov, his eyes narrowing as he tried to dig up the memory. "Something about translating an ancient book, I think."

"Well that is my specialty," bragged Karkaroff, before summoning the jug of pumpkin juice and pouring some more into his glass. He tried to hide a grimace as he watched the drink flow in, the glass was far too streaky for his liking, and had smelled strongly of dust before Dolohov had poured their first drinks, but Karkaroff was hot and uncomfortable, and therefore willing to lower his standards for the tiny scrap of relief the juice brought.

"Did you not consider creating a system to allow cold air to flow in here?" Karkaroff asked Dolohov after sipping his second drink. "This is unbearable."

"The humidity doesn't concern me much," replied Dolohov, sending the jug back over to the counter after filling his glass. "I just wanted to avoid the direct sunlight, in which I succeeded."

"Alright for some," scoffed Karkaroff. "Unless I'm visiting a friend, I'm confined to rooms of my temporary accommodation. It's far too hot to go sightseeing without exposing myself."

"If you're incapable of doing so without exposing yourself," Dolohov began, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Then maybe it's best you don't sightsee at all."

"That is not what I meant Antonin and you know it," huffed Karkaroff, annoyed with how strongly he was fighting the urge to laugh at his friend's childish joke. "I meant my mark."

"Where's your sense of humour Igor," laughed Dolohov, a low, dirty laugh that Karkaroff was very familiar with.

"Oh, I have a sense of humour Antonin," replied Karkaroff, feeling a new layer of heat wash over his body, pushing more sweat out of his skin. "It's just more refined than that of a teenage schoolboy." While he considered them good friends, Karkaroff thought himself to hold much more class than Dolohov. Dolohov was brutish and perverted, Karkaroff aimed to display a much classier conduct with most of the company he kept.

"Anyone would think that you were the elder in this friendship," sighed Dolohov, lifting his glass and drinking from it. Dolohov was only four years younger than the Dark Lord, having known him since his teenage years and being one of his first followers. Karkaroff was twenty years his junior. "You've no sense of humour, and you're so stiff at parties."

"I am not stiff," Karkaroff highlighted, his voice almost curt. "I simply conduct myself better than a common street bum." Dolohov raised his eyebrows at the insult.

"I was perfectly pleasant and sociable at Lucius Malfoy's party on Sunday," continued Karkaroff.

"Only because all the guests were laughing at the hideous hat he wore for the whole thing," Dolohov replied. Karkaroff banished a smile at the memory.

"I heard it was because he'd accidentally turned his hair green," said Karkaroff, recalling one of the rumours he'd been told. Dolohov choked out a breathy noise.

"What?" spat Dolohov, his eyes now wide. "Who told you that?"

"Lestrange."

"Which one?" spat Dolohov.

"Rabastan," answered Karkaroff, amusement at Dolohov turning sour the moment the name was mentioned lingering in his voice. "He and I have known each other a long time." Dolohov let out a bored sounding hum.

 _As soon as Igor Karkaroff was inside the large doors that granted entrance to Malfoy Manor, he made his way through the ground floor. Music was playing in a distant room, an old song he was familiar with, playing from an amplified gramophone. He found his way to the ballroom, which was the room containing the doors that led out into the garden, and also, where the music was coming from. There were many people wandering around the room, but Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy spotted Karkaroff as soon as he walked in._

" _We're delighted that you could make it Igor," said Narcissa once they'd walked over to him, her voice crisp, like someone tapping a crystal glass to make a toast. He shook her hand, watching her smile politely as the greeting ended. Narcissa was a very beautiful young woman, her youth evident in her porcelain face. She resembled a somewhat cold china doll._

 _Once Karkaroff was finished greeting her, he looked up at Lucius, taking in the man's ice blue robes and matching hat, which stood like an upturned bucket on his head, completely covering his hair. Karkaroff shook the man's hand, keeping the laugh that was rising in his throat suppressed with as much force as he could discreetly muster._

 _If you were somebody well connected, then Lucius Malfoy was someone you needed to know. He was already soaring through the ministry ranks at only twenty one years old, on top of being the sole heir to an incredible fortune once the current Malfoy patriarch died. Karkaroff had met him last year, and was unsure what to make of him, finding him rather pedantic at times, but overall not terrible._

 _After greeting the hosts, Karkaroff made a quick round of the gardens, taking note of who was present and catching up with them. He stumbled upon Rabastan Lestrange, and old acquaintance he'd met in Bulgaria in 1970, sat alone at white iron table in a small garden away from the Malfoy's main patio._

" _Is this seat taken?" asked Karkaroff, motioning to the empty seat opposite him. Rabastan looked up, smiling._

" _Of course not Igor," he replied, motioning to the empty chair. "Sit down." Karkaroff sat._

 _They began catching up, updating each other on their lives over past year since they'd seen each other, eventually getting onto the topic of the party._

" _It's been quite the party season, hasn't it?" said Karkaroff, sipping champagne from a glass that had delivered to him via floating tray twenty minutes ago._

" _Yeah," agreed Rabastan, picking at one of his fingernails. "The heat has definitely improved the social scene."_

" _So I guess I didn't choose too bad a time to come back after all," replied Karkaroff. "Even if this heat is unpleasant."_

" _I don't mind it that much," said Rabastan immediately, the tone of his voice lighter. Karkaroff figured that he was probably the only one. "Living all over southern Europe for a few years helped me acclimatise."_

" _So you're enjoying the parties?" asked Karkaroff._

" _I guess so," said Rabastan, raising his eyebrows as he shrugged. "Although I've had to play the role of responsible older brother at more than one of these events." Karkaroff laughed._

" _Drunken younger brother?" Rabastan shook his head, grinning widely._

" _Three weeks ago I had to help him and my sister in law up the stairs after Evan Rosier's party," Rabastan told Karkaroff._

" _I left that party early," Karkaroff said, recalling the lack of liveliness. "I wouldn't have said there was much alcohol there."_

" _They probably brought their own," said Rabastan. Karkaroff half laughed._

" _Honestly, watching them try and get up the stairs I almost left them there," Rabastan began. "I considered blocking the stairs off and forcing them to sleep downstairs, but my sister in law isn't somebody that you willingly get on their bad side."_

" _She seems…" Karkaroff wasn't sure how to finish the sentence._

" _She's interesting," Rabastan said slowly. Karkaroff gave him a disbelieving look._

" _She's got a wicked sense of humour at times," continued Rabastan, starting to smile. "She even told me the reason Lucius is wearing that awful hat, if she was being honest, that is."_

" _What reason?"_

" _Turned his hair green in the swimming pool apparently," he said, causing Karkaroff to almost spit out the mouthful of champagne he'd just sipped._

" _Really?"_

" _Apparently so, but you didn't hear that from me."_

Rabastan moved on to say about how his brother had to step in and help Lucius organize the party at the last minute yesterday as Narcissa was called into St Mungo's after her father collapsed. Karkaroff remembered trying to sneak glances under Lucius's hat after that conversation.

"Lucius Malfoy really is an interesting breed of idiot," said Dolohov, taking a sip from his glass. Lucius wasn't exactly well liked amongst the other Death Eaters, mostly due to his snobbish attitude, and the fact that he was a coward, yet still remained in high regard of the Dark Lord, which many who were older and had been there longer resented.

"So he's not a popular man?" replied Karkaroff.

"Amongst the ministry he is," explained Dolohov, slivers of contempt leaking into his expression. "But you should come on a raid with him, then you'll see his true colours." Dolohov smirked. "And by colours I mean one, and that's yellow."

"So he's cowardly?" said Karkaroff slowly. "Merlin Antonin, is there any of the others you actually do like?"

"A few," he replied, drumming his fingers on the table. "I like you."

"I spend over half of the year living elsewhere," Karkaroff highlighted. "Maybe you're just a difficult man to get along with." It wouldn't surprise Karkaroff if many of the others held the same level of dislike for Dolohov as he did for them. His aggressiveness and perverse humour could be too much for many people, especially those who came from high wizarding society.

"Not nearly as difficult as some," replied Dolohov, itching the scar on his neck. He'd never been so infuriated in his life the day that bitch got the better of him. She was the worst of the three Lestrange's who currently served the Dark Lord. So unbearably arrogant, just because she was a little bit good with a wand, thought she was better than the others. Probably fucked her way to the top of the ranks too, the younger Lestrange brother was a mug if he didn't suspect it.

Dolohov had tried to be courteous to the boys, having known their father for so long, but Rabastan was the only one he could tolerate. Rodolphus had stopped his psychotic bitch of a wife from plunging a knife into his neck, but he'd still given him a good beating beforehand. Over an hour, they'd had him, all because he'd tried his luck with her. He'd never been so insulted in his life, that these two, who had only been in the service a year at the time and only rose through the ranks because they threw their weight around, had the audacity to best him, who had been there since the beginning.

His scar was three years old now, but unlike its prominence, Dolohov's hatred hadn't diminished with age. He kept it concealed though, played pleasant in public, like at all of these parties that had been happening.

 _Antonin Dolohov did not consider himself to be a very social man, but he loved an excuse for a drink. And since pubs were largely off limits at the moment unless he wanted to melt into a puddle of his own sweat, which he didn't, the garden parties being thrown by the wealthier Death Eaters were marginally more tolerable than most social gatherings._

 _For one thing, only other death eaters and their partners, if their partners had knowledge of their activities, were in attendance. The open displays of support for the Dark Lord marred into their flesh made the atmosphere more comfortable, even if there were many members of the inner circle that Dolohov disliked, including the hosts of the current party he was at, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy._

 _They were young and overconfident, Dolohov disliked many of the younger members for this specific reason. Lucius had also proved himself to be quite the coward on raids, reluctant to torture and almost refusing to kill, being far too concerned with them being caught by aurors. He'd still greeted them with the correct manners for their high society lifestyle, despite all the effort it took not to laugh at the ridiculous hat Lucius was sporting. He'd saved his laughter until they'd disappeared from earshot._

 _The party had been overwhelmingly average, champagne and food, people chatting in their expansive garden. Nobody had even gone in the swimming pool, and it was the heights of the afternoon when the sun was at its worst. Lucius had probably banned the guests from going in, lest their bacteria get in the water._

 _After two and a half hours, Dolohov couldn't take anymore, he went inside, searching for something to drink that was harder than champagne. He knew Lucius would have some somewhere, all these mansions usually did. He found his way to the wine cellar, but as he went to open the door he heard movement from behind it. He stepped back, watching the two people emerge from the darkness, the candle light revealing them to be Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, who were carrying a bottle of brandy._

" _What are you doing down here?" spat Bellatrix, her face falling immediately into a scowl._

" _I could ask you the same thing?"_

" _We'd rather you didn't," replied Rodolphus._

" _Can't she speak for herself?" Dolohov replied, contempt heavy in his voice._

" _You know exactly what I can do for myself Antonin," Bellatrix responded, her words laced with false sweetness and threats. He felt their eyes on the scar on his neck. "Now if you don't leave, you'll be getting another demonstration."_

" _If I recall, last time you needed him to help you," spat Dolohov. He hadn't wanted this exchange to get unpleasant, but she'd made it unavoidable._

" _She doesn't need my help with anything mate," Rodolphus stepped in, inching closer to Dolohov. "I just joined in for fun."_

" _I didn't want any of this, unnecessary unpleasantness," said Dolohov, keeping eye contact with him, "I just wanted a break from the heat."_

" _If we give you the brandy will you fuck off," offered Rodolphus, extending the bottle towards him. "Everyone knows what a lush you are." Dolohov took the bottle._

" _I wouldn't be so quick to judge if I were you," said Dolohov, backing away with the bottle. "Maybe you should be concerning yourself the vices of those a little closer to home, not mine."_

" _I'm good, mate," replied Rodolphus, shooting Dolohov a sneering look before the two of them disappeared back into the wine cellar._

He'd gone home with the brandy after that. He wasn't enjoying the party anyway, and certainly didn't need to receive judgement from the likes of them.

Karkaroff stood up, announcing his attention to leave as the stretched his back. Dolohov rose too, preparing to walk him to the door, before noticing a stain on his light grey robes, towards the top of his legs.

"If you needed the bathroom, you could have just gone," joked Dolohov.

"What are you talking about?" asked Karkaroff, blinking and confused. Dolohov looked down, Karkaroff followed.

"Its sweat Antonin," exclaimed Karkaroff as he rubbed at the stain. Dolohov continued laughing, louder now. "This blasted heat."

"Maybe you shouldn't wear grey to Nott's party tomorrow," added Dolohov, reigning in his laughter.

"I certainly won't," huffed Karkaroff, speeding towards the front door.

Karkaroff was a proud man, his insides burning as he looked at the stain on his legs, guessing that there were matching ones under his arms too. He apparated back to his accommodation, determined to find a potion to stop this rate of perspiration.


	4. Nott and Rosier

A proud smile was plastered on the face of Atticus Nott as he surveyed the people entering the foyer of his manor, watching from the foot of the stairs as they shared praise for the floral decorations that his wife had strewn around the place. He remembered her saying that she wanted blue and white flowers to hopefully give the illusion of coolness, hoping that it worked on the guests at least, because even in sleeveless robes he was uncomfortably sweaty.

His thoughts drifted away from how sticky he was when a familiar face wandering through the front door caught his eye. Evan Rosier, the man he would arguably call his closest friend, had just arrived. Atticus went over to approach him before he slipped down the hallway leading out to the patio.

"Evan," he said cheerfully, patting him on the back to get his attention. "Glad you could make it."

"Atticus," Evan replied, mirroring his friend's pleasant tone. "The place looks fantastic."

"Did a good job didn't she?" Atticus responded, grinning as he watched Evan survey the room.

"Well she does design fashion," he responded, placing his hands on his hips. "She was hardly going to fill the place with rotting pumpkins, was she?"

"Ugh, imagine the smell of that in this heat," said Atticus, grimacing at the image he had created.

"I'd rather not," Evan replied, wearing a matching wince of disgust. "Should we go and get a drink?"

"Sure," Atticus agreed, and the two of them left the foyer in search of a floating tray of champagne.

"So how have you been?"

"In the few days since the last time we saw each other," responded Evan, laughing slightly as he raised his eyebrows. "Very much the same."

"The shop's takings are down since the season is slow and many of my most loyal customers won't leave their houses," explained Atticus. He was the manager of a betting shop in Knockturn Alley that was owned by his father. A part of him was worried that he was falling behind on potential recruitments, but since the Dark Lord had left the country and banned them from action, he suspected that now wasn't the best time to try and recruit new people to the cause."But other than that, things have been okay. What about you?"

"The ministry is the same," said Evan, before catching a floating tray and lifting two glasses of champagne from it. "The building is too hot and the owls keep shitting in the lifts, which makes it even worse."

"Ok, now I'm glad I didn't have to take an office job," replied Atticus, grimacing as he sipped his first mouthful of champagne.

"And Francesca, is her business okay?"

"She's doing great," answered Atticus. Francesca always did well in the summer months as new fashion trends emerged, but ever since the heat wave had come in the demand for light and comfortable fashion choices was higher than ever. "She's got more commissions than she can keep up with."

"At least someone is doing well out of this heat," said Evan, placing his glass on the waist high cabinet against the wall beside them. "I'm sick of coming home sweaty and smelling like bird shit."

"Is that a whiff of it now I detect?" joked Atticus, leaning towards his friend and taking an exaggeratedly heavy sniff. Evan rolled his eyes. "No, that's just your disgusting aftershave."

"It was gifted to me by my cousin," he explained rather flatly.

"Which one?" said Atticus. "The crazy one, or the one married to Lucius Malfoy."

"Narcissa," answered Evan. Atticus had been in the same year at Hogwarts as Evan's traitor cousin Andromeda, whom the family disowned five years ago. Something about excluding her from the list of Evan's cousins felt strange, but he knew the family didn't want her name mentioned in front of them ever again, and he couldn't really blame them.

"Maybe it was one of Malfoy's rejects," said Atticus jokingly, nudging Evan in the side.

"He's not so bad," he replied, wrinkling his nose as his eyes narrowed in concentration. "I don't know why everyone makes fun of him so much."

"It's probably his hair," Atticus suggested. He didn't speak to many of the other Death Eaters, and he knew that some of the contempt towards Lucius Malfoy was because they thought he was a coward, but he suspected that the fact Lucius's vanity levels rivalled that of most women was also a ripe source of mockery. "Speaking of his hair, did you manage to find out why he was wearing that awful hat on Sunday?"

"As a matter of fact I did," said Evan, the corners of his mouth forming into a grin. He blinked once, before pulling his lips into a thin line, as if something inside told him that smiling was childish. "But I told Narcissa I wouldn't say anything."

"It's a good thing I found out too then," Atticus said smugly. Evan's eyes grew wide.

"When?"

"After most people had gone home I stayed," he explained, taking a sip from his glass. "Saw him take it off." Evan blinked, a look of disbelief etched on his face.

"He wouldn't even show me," he said, leaning in closer so anybody around them was less likely to hear. "How bad was it?"

"I personally think he would have been better off without the hat," said Atticus, remembering the barely there mossy highlight. "He's just a drama queen."

"No arguments there," laughed Evan, before shooting Atticus a suspicious look. "Although why were you lurking around at the end of people's parties?"

"Fran and Narcissa were having a good chat, I didn't want to bother them," said Atticus, his tone huffy as he justified himself. Once the judgemental look on Evan's face disappeared, he grinned. "Also, after the show your cousin made of herself at the end of your party, I was hoping for some last minute entertainment."

"Ah yes," said Evan, laughing slightly as the memory sprang to mind. "She always was trouble."

 _Evan Rosier strolled into the main lounge of his manor, trying to figure out how many guests were still left at his garden soiree. He had work in the morning and needed them gone, as it was almost midnight. He'd even kept the event deliberately low key with as little alcohol as possible, since he wanted a sophisticated after work gathering and not the champagne heavy event that Yaxley had thrown at the weekend._

 _So far there were six people remaining that excluded himself, and he knew that Mr and Mrs Nott were planning on leaving very shortly. Intending to find more guests that he'd forgotten were there, he ended up discovering his cousin Bellatrix lying across the large couch and twirling a vase around in circles above her head with her wand._

" _Bella?" Evan said tentatively, finding the position he found her in rather strange. She lazily turned her head in order to see him, sending the vase crashing down as her concentration broke. The vase bounced off the arm of the couch, narrowly missing her head, before smashing on the floor._

" _Evan I'm so sorry," she slurred, rolling on her side as she attempted to get up, but instead rolled off the couch and onto the floor, where she began laughing uncontrollably._

" _Bella?" Evan repeated as he watched his cousin roll on the floor and howl with laughter, her thick curls fanning out behind her. The thud had drawn a crowd, the Nott's, who were in the foyer ready to leave, and Bellatrix's brother in law Rabastan, were now gathered in the doorway._

" _I'm sorry about this," Rabastan said to Evan, glancing between the broken vase and his sister in law lying on the floor_

" _I'm used to her," he replied, dismissing Rabastan's apologies. Bellatrix had been a magnet for trouble and chaos long before joining the Death Eaters had turned her into a sadistic fanatic. She was less than a year younger than Evan, so he was more than used to cleaning up her messes, especially during their Hogwarts years._

" _I'll get her up," offered Rabastan, stepping closer to Bellatrix, who had only just begun to stop laughing. Evan found it hard not to laugh as he looked at her, wondering how she'd managed to get herself in the state she was in._

 _It was a sight she would never allow anybody to witness sober, her spread across the floor with the skirt of her dress halfway up her legs, revealing old scars and fading bruises. Evan felt lucky that the top half of her dress was haltered and kept some of her dignity intact, breathing a sigh of relief that her breasts hadn't fallen out the side of her dress._

 _He watched Rabastan guide her into a sitting position, steadying her when she swayed, until he helped her to her feet. Bellatrix stumbled once she was upright, like a baby animal finding its feet. She steadied herself, shooting an unimpressed look at Rabastan before staggering towards Evan._

" _Evan I'm sorry about your vase," slurred Bellatrix, Rabastan hovering a few inches behind her in case she started wobbling. "And I'm sorry we drank the bottle of whiskey in your bedroom."_

" _Why were you in my bedroom?" asked Evan, screwing up his face in confusion. Bellatrix laughed._

" _Right," said Rabastan loudly, putting an arm around Bellatrix's waist. "I think it's time we went home."_

" _Goodbye Evan," said Bellatrix, throwing off her brother in law and stumbling over to Evan, throwing her arms around his shoulders. She fell in his arms as she planted a whiskey drenched kiss on his cheek. He immediately slung his arm around her waist and hers over his shoulders after he managed to keep from dropping her._

" _We should go and find my brother," said Rabastan, glancing at Bellatrix hanging off Evan's side. "He'll probably be in a similar state." Evan nodded, and they began to move._

 _They traipsed through the rooms of the ground floor, hoping to locate Rodolphus. They had no luck in the kitchen and library, and eventually settled in the doorway to one of the back lounges. Evan and Rabastan leaned against each side of the door frame, Bellatrix falling forwards slightly as she peered inside the room._

" _He's in there," she said. Both of the men looked at her. "In the armchair." They both glanced in the room, noticing a pair of smartly tailored dress shoes at the bottom of the chair, attached to a pair of legs they could barely see due to the way the chair was angled._

 _Before they could move into the room, Bellatrix tore herself out of Evan's grip and sped into the room, stumbling frantically and leaning on the armchair for support. Evan and Rabastan were quick on her heels, stopping just beside her. She was right, Rodolphus was sat in the armchair, slouched backwards and fast asleep._

" _Wakey wakey darling, we're going," giggled Bellatrix, gripping her husband's face as she leaned forwards. Evan pulled her away before she fell in the chair too. This scene was all too familiar for Evan, having been at Hogwarts with the pair of them and played many drinking games with them._

" _We need to think of something to wake him up," said Evan, knowing how difficult Rodolphus could be to wake after drinking._

" _I know," mumbled Bellatrix, before stumbling over to the counter where a vase of flowers sat. She pulled the flowers out of the vase and tossed them on the floor, and dumped the water from the vase on Rodolphus's head._

" _What the fuck!" he shouted as he launched himself out of the armchair, water dripping down his face and staining his robes as he struggled to keep himself upright. Evan caught Bellatrix, who had begun laughing wickedly again, and was beginning to fall over. Rabastan edged closer to his brother, who leaned against the wall as he pushed his wet hair out of his face. Bellatrix waved at him._

 _In the surprise from Bellatrix tipping water over Rodolphus, the clanging sound that had rang out when he shot up had escaped Evan's memory, until he noticed the metal hip flask on the floor. That would explain how they'd managed to get this drunk, that and the fact they'd apparently drank the whiskey he had hidden in his bedroom, which as still just less than half a bottle._

" _That's mine," slurred Rodolphus, who bent down to pick up the flask. Rabastan rushed over and caught him before he could capsize like a sinking ship, picking up the flask and shoving it in his pocket before hoisting his brother upright again by grabbing him under each arm._

" _Do you need any help?" asked Evan, watching Rabastan wince slightly as he lifted up his brother. Rodolphus was broader than both of them, therefore heavier, and Evan had carried him up the Slytherin dormitory stairs enough times to know that he could be a bit of a dead weight, and that was when they were teens, not grown men._

" _Nah," said Rabastan dismissively, letting go of his younger brother to see if he could stand up unsupported. He yawned, falling into Rabastan's side. "I've carried him out of pubs in worse states than this."_

" _Oh don't look at me like that Evan," said Rodolphus, who was quietly laughing to himself like he'd remembered something funny as Rabastan held him upright, no longer slurring despite being unable to stand up. "The number of times I've had to carry you to bed after drinking, seems a little hypocritical don't you think." Evan shook his head. Things were different when they were mischievous teens at Hogwarts, he'd grown up._

" _Okay," he said, steering a still giggling Bellatrix towards the door. "I'll help you get them home, but once you're there, you're on your own mate."_

" _Okay," said Rabastan, shoving his brother closer to Evan and Bellatrix while he grumbled in protest. Evan and Rabastan propped Bellatrix and Rodolphus against the wall as they secured their arms around them, getting them to stand as straight as possible so they didn't get splinched apparating home._

 _They apparated from the back lounge to the foyer of Lestrange manor, Evan letting go of Bellatrix as soon as he was sure of his surroundings and watching her stagger towards the staircase at the centre of the space. Sweat was dripping down his face, plastering his hair to his forehead and the back of his neck in a way that was itchy and uncomfortable. Trying to help his cousin had almost distracted him from how hot it was, but now she was no longer dangling off his side, the humidity engulfed him. After wishing Rabastan goodnight and good luck, he disapparated back to his own manor to clear the rest of the guests away, and search the house for any other mess._

"I hadn't seen her like that since school," said Atticus, remembering the many drinking games played in the Slytherin common room on Friday nights.

"I'm used to seeing her like that by now," Evan responded, picking up his glass and taking a swig. "Although, the person you really want to see drunk is Malfoy."

"Yeah?"

"Cissa was so furious with him when he got drunk at one of the minister's dinner parties, it was absolutely hilarious," said Evan, a dimple forming in one of his cheeks as he tried to suppress a smile. Atticus made a note to pay more attention to him at parties. He pictured his long blond hair flying behind him as he stumbled over and hit the floor.

"Speaking of drunks," said Atticus, nudging Evan as Igor Karkaroff and Antonin Dolohov walked into the room. "More guests."

"Wonder how long Karkaroff is in the country for?" said Evan, who had done business with the man several times through his ministry role.

"I don't know," Atticus replied, glancing at Dolohov. "But I do know Dolohov stole a bottle of brandy from your cousin at the weekend."

"How?"

"Saw him coming out of one of their hallways with it and then leaving," he explained. Evan wrinkled his nose at him.

"Mate," he said loudly. "You need to stop lurking around people's houses."

"I didn't mean to see it," said Atticus defensively, shooting Evan an equally judging look for trying to imply he was some kind of pervert. "Fran and I were coming inside for some escape from the sun."

" _Surely there must be a bathroom around here somewhere," huffed Francesca Nott, fanning herself with her hand as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with the other._

" _Try that door over there," Atticus suggested, pointing to a dark wooden door in a small alcove. They'd been wandering around the ground floor of Malfoy manor for five minutes trying to find a bathroom. So far they'd been down two dead end corridors, one leading what they were sure was the cellar. They decided to try the corridor on the opposite side of the marble staircase in the centre of the foyer._

" _No, that's the broom cupboard," Francesca said, huffing in annoyance as she dabbed at the sweat on her face and chest._

" _You should have just gone behind one of the hedges," joked Atticus, laughing as Francesca swatted his arm disapprovingly, tutting loudly._

" _I would never do something so disgusting," she said, shooting her husband a damning glare, before the sound of footsteps at the other end of the hallway caught their attention. They looked at each other, immediately sharing the same thought. Maybe that person would know where the nearest bathroom was._

 _By the time they reached the foyer, whoever it was had either disappeared up the stairs or left the house. They both sighed. Then another person emerging from the hallway caught their eyes. It was Dolohov._

" _Hey Dolohov," shouted Atticus, his voice echoing off the marble that lined the foyer. "Do you know where the bathroom is?"_

" _No Nott," he replied, shoving something which appeared to be a bottle of expensive brandy in his robe pocket. "I couldn't find it myself, so I certainly wouldn't be able to direct you to it."_

" _Thanks anyway," said Francesca._

" _Looking for place to be alone are you?" said Dolohov, his eyes falling wolfishly to Francesca's chest. Atticus cleared his throat, stepping in front of her._

" _No actually," he said, looking the older man directly in the eyes. "Surprise surprise, she needs the toilet. So maybe you should keep your comments to yourself, eh mate."_

" _I was only joking," huffed Dolohov, stepping aside, clearly ready to end the conversation. "You young lot have no sense of humour." He then walked out the front door._

"Should I go and have a word with him?" asked Evan, puffing out his chest slightly.

"Not worth it mate," replied Atticus. "He's just an aggressive old drunk. Just buy your cousin a bottle for Christmas to make up for it."

"She doesn't actually drink brandy," stated Evan, titling his head slightly. "It was probably Lucius's, but yeah I will do. That seems to be the way my lot do things. I'm expecting a bottle of whiskey for my birthday."

"So that explains the other week," said Atticus, raising his eyebrows with an amused grin. His cousin Bellatrix must have stolen some from wherever Evan kept his secret stash.

"Yeah," Evan confirmed. A tray then floated towards them filled with small savoury tartlets.

"Canapé?"

"Sure." They both followed the tray back into the foyer and grabbed two of the small pastries. Evan shoved his in his mouth all at once, but Atticus kept hold of his, leaning away from one of his wife's flower decorations which they were almost squashing into the wall.

"I still can't get over what a wonderful job Fran has done with the house," said Atticus. There were white butterflies floating from flower to flower, and smaller insects crawling along the leaves. "These flowers look fantastic."

"They do," agreed Evan after washing down his pastry with champagne.

"I think she should branch into interior decorating," Atticus continued, before shoving his pastry in his mouth, savouring the flavour of the pâté and pastry and "Owwww." Stinging pain exploded across his tongue.

"What happened?" asked Evan, his voice high and panicked. Atticus spat the mouthful out onto the floor, and watched as a wasp coated in clumps of chewed up pastry and pâté flew diagonally above him.

"Gross," said Evan as he watched the wasp and then glanced at the half chewed pile on the floor. Atticus drew his wand and sent the wasp to the ground with a jet of green light.

"It stung my tongue," shouted Atticus, already feeling his tongue begin to swell in his mouth

"Merlin's beard," exclaimed Evan, putting their glasses down on the floor before trying to pull Atticus's tongue out in order to examine it.

"Thith ith tho painful," he spat, sending saliva into Evan's face and all over his hands. His tongue was swelling, a white bump where the sting had occurred rising. In the distance, movement caught Evan's eye. They both turned and found three young men, obviously still at Hogwarts, staring at him pulling Atticus's tongue. He recognised one of them as Avery's younger brother.

"Whath are you looking ath!" Atticus tried to shout, squeezing his eyes shut in pain as his face turned a blotchy pink colour.

"Go on," said Evan, much more articulately. "Get out." The three ran past them through towards the entrance to the garden where most of the party's attendees where.

"Right, now we need to make you an antidote," said Evan, ushering him towards the corridor at the other side of the stairs where the potions supply cupboard was. Atticus was mortified. Not only had he been humiliated at his own party by unwittingly attempting to eat a wasp, but three nosy kids had seen it. They were probably out there laughing and telling everyone.

"Stupid flowers," he muttered against his swollen tongue, glaring at them as they moved out of the foyer. As pretty as it looked, Francesca was never using real flowers of that quantity to decorate their house ever again, especially during the height of summer.


	5. Snape, Avery and Mulciber

Severus Snape climbed onto the branch, careful not to catch his hair on the protruding twigs surrounding him as he followed his two friends further up the tree they were currently climbing, where as the trunk converged into three separate stretches, the perfect sitting place was nested. They'd spent most of summer up so far up here in these trees, sitting at the back of a large field near Snape's home. Since the others had frequent access to the floo network and portkeys, it was easier for them to come to him than the other way around.

Once they reached their usual sitting place, Snape stationed himself between two branches, the other viable seating spaces taken up by Mulciber and Avery. They'd spent a lot of time together over the summer, more so than they ever had before. This was because something changed this year at Hogwarts, and the person who usually kept Snape company through the long and miserable summer where all he longed for was to return to Hogwarts, was no longer speaking to him.

It had been almost two months since that awful day down by the lake, where he lost Lily for good, but his friends were determined to make sure he moved on. Now that they had broken up for the summer, they could really have fun without the ghosts of that day lingering around every corner and sitting in classes with them.

"So," said Avery once everyone was settled and had finished pushing thin branches out of their eyes. "My brother is going to another party tonight, and he said that he could bring us along."

"Nice," said Mulciber, grinning widely. He'd thoroughly enjoyed the last party they'd been to at the allowance of Avery's older brother, which had taken place on Sunday in a gigantic manor with a pool and mazes surrounding the place. Snape had never seen a house so magnificent, so opulent. It had made him feel immediately out of place, hiding behind Avery as his older brother sneakily gave them glasses of champagne.

"But we need to get Sev properly drunk this time," Avery continued, ripping a leaf off of one of the branches and tearing it up. "So he can learn what real fun is and forget that filthy mudblood ever existed." Mulciber laughed, and Snape joined in half heartedly. Lily still left a hole in his chest, no matter how much they thought she was never worthy of his time in the first place.

"Exactly," Mulciber agreed. "We don't even know what you saw in her in the first place. We put up with the fact you liked her because we liked you." They both turned to look at him, complete acceptance and fondness in their eyes. That had been all Snape had ever wanted, people to accept him for who he was, and not treat him like the laughing stock that that arrogant swine Potter and his clan of idiots tried to make him out to be. He thought he'd found that with Lily, but Mulciber and Avery had helped him see just how wrong he was. She'd never accepted him fully, but they did. For the first time, Severus Snape felt truly seen.

"It's time to forget about her now," said Avery. They'd been giving him this same encouragement whenever they noticed him looking down or seeming withdrawn after the incident, always being able to make him feel better. They reminded him how she stood by and watched Potter do that to him, how she'd been trying to poke holes in their friendship long before the incident had happened.

"I know," he said, looking at the two of them so they could see that he meant it. "She wasn't good for me, I know that now."

"Yeah," said Mulciber, more a cheer than an agreement. "Fuck Evans. She never deserved your friendship in the first place."

"Fuck Evans," repeated Avery, this time louder, looking at Snape to do the same.

"Fuck Evans," he yelled, shouting it up to the cloudless sky while Mulciber and Avery clapped and cheered.

"That mudblood bitch can rot," shouted Mulciber, ripping a handful of leaves off a nearby branch and throwing them at Severus. "To the new Severus, a better, more ballsy, more badass guy than he's ever been before."

"You show that mudblood her place Sev," said Avery, joining in with the comical showering of leaves. Severus plucked one from his hair, letting it go and watching it twirl down to the ground. "She's never going to walk all over you again."

Mulciber then produced a packet of jelly slugs from his robe pocket. He opened it up, pulling two out to hand to Avery and Snape. Due to the heat, they were stuck together, which made Snape chuckle as he watched Mulciber try and pull them apart. He managed eventually, but the force of his pull sent one flying back towards his face, where it hung from his top lip like a wonky false moustache.

"Ew, mate get rid of that bogey, it's disgusting," teased Avery, causing Mulciber to stick his middle finger up as he pulled the lime green slug from his top lip, muttering to himself about the 'bloody heat'. Avery continued to make childish noises of disgust as the half melted slug was torn slowly off.

"Well it looks like I'll be having that one," he said, handing the less melted orange slug to Avery before producing an unstuck red slug for Snape. Avery held the slug up in the space between them, imitating a toast. "To the new and improved Severus Snape." They all imitated the toast, eating the slugs rather than sipping from drinks.

"We'll do the real toast tonight," Avery continued, rubbing jelly residue from his hands on the branch he was sitting on. "My brother said that the party starts at five, but we won't be getting there until half past since he's got to come home from work and get changed and stuff."

"So are we all meeting at yours?" asked Mulciber. Snape felt his stomach start to sink. He had nothing to wear, his one decent set of robes he'd worn to the last party, and they hadn't been washed yet. Embarrassment creeped through him, causing him to look down at the frayed bottoms of his too short trousers, reminding him once again how out of place he was amongst his rich friends, how lucky he was that they were even interested in him.

"Yeah," Avery confirmed, explaining how his brother was going to apparate them there like last time. It had been the first time Snape had apparated, and he'd almost vomited in the hedge once they'd arrived at the gates of the mansion they were attending the party at. Dread mixed with the embarrassment that had settled in Snape's stomach, but he tried to push the thought away and deal with it when the time came. He had more important issues to handle first.

"Can I borrow a robe?" Snape asked tentatively, cringing once the words were out of his mouth and his friends' attention was on him. "All of mine that aren't black are in the wash, and it's far too hot to wear black in this weather." His heard pounded as he waited for his friends to think.

"Sure thing mate," said Mulciber, who was closer to his size. Avery, like his older brother and sister, was short and stocky. "You can get ready at mine, and then we'll go to his together." Snape let out a silent sigh of relief.

Later that afternoon, once they'd climbed out of the trees, Snape went back to Mulciber's house via portkey. They got ready in his room, flooing over to Avery's house once they were ready. Avery was ready when they got there, sitting in their main lounge with his brother, who was almost nine years older than them. His sister, the middle child of the Avery family, was four years older, but moved out when she married into the Goyle family two years ago. Snape looked down at where the oldest Avery sat in an armchair, his sleeveless robes revealing the skull and serpent tattoo that decorated the inside of his left forearm, the same one that had filled Snape with awe the first time he'd met the man.

 _Snape wanted to shrink into himself and let the gravel eat him as he walked down the driveway to the Avery's house, if you could even call it a house. It was massive with three storeys and stone pillars around the front door. This place would swallow the pokey little terraced house Snape lived in multiple times over. He knew that he didn't belong here._

 _Avery walked out of the house and met Snape and Mulciber, who had arrived there by portkey, before leading them inside. Thankful to be out of the heat_ _as his hair was making it particularly unbearable, Snape tried not to continue to be overwhelmed by the extravagance of his friend's home. He at least wanted to seem like he fit in, masking his expressions and trying to shield thoughts of his own inadequacy._

 _Shortly after they arrived in the house Avery's older brother emerged. He was the one taking them to the party. He strode in, fairly short but stocky, in blue robes that were pushed up at the elbows. That was when Snape saw it. It was the first dark mark that he'd ever seen in person, that was more than just whispers passed around the school or a picture of a cloud in the Daily Prophet. He tried not to stare, forcing his gaze up to the man's eyes. He noticed that Mulciber seemed far more at ease._

 _Avery had bragged frequently of his brother's status as a Death Eater in the Slytherin common room, using the knowledge to threaten other students. Snape had never paid that much attention to it. He liked Avery, and Avery appeared to like him, so that was really all that mattered to him. He'd fight with him sometimes for making jibes about Lily, but they never lasted very long. Snape needed friends, and Avery was one of few, so he learned to put up with it._

 _But now he could feel where Avery's arrogance came from. His brother's stance was powerful, he looked like he knew where he belonged. Snape instantly envied him. He listened intently as the older Avery explained how lucky they were to be brought to the party, and how never to betray the identities of the attendees, as it could cost many their lives. Snape felt a little more at ease as they prepared to apparate to the party. He was now part of something, he had a little secret, and the three of them would be the only Hogwarts students in on it._

 _All of that ease and comfort disappeared as soon as they arrived at the mansion the party was taking place at. Snape had never felt so out of place in his entire life. The place was gigantic, surrounded by perfectly manicured hedges that buzzed with life in the summer heat. It was guarded by a large wrought iron gate, which the older Avery cast a spell on to open._

 _Snape continued to stare as they entered the house, impressed by the marble staircase and expanse of hallways. He could hear music coming from a distant room, falling in line behind the Avery's as they explored the ground floor of the house looking for people. They were one of the later guests, so Snape figured most of the attendees were already here. They didn't see a single person until they reached the ballroom, where Thorfinn Rowle was sat on a small, stiff looking couch in the corner._

" _Here's our newest inner circle member," said the older Avery as they approached Rowle. Rowle had graduated from Hogwarts last year. Although Snape wasn't surprised to find him here, he was surprised that he'd made his way into the inner circle so soon after graduating._

" _Hi guys," said Rowle, who Snape noticed was a nastily vibrant shade of pink. He must have gotten sunburned. They all returned the greeting._

 _Rowle and Avery exchanged brief words about where everyone was, confirming that they were all in the garden. Avery then told the younger group that he was going to find them some champagne, and left them catching up with Rowle._

 _Once Avery's older brother returned with four glasses of champagne, he led them through an archway into a smaller room, where the trays of food and drinks were floating in and out as champagne bottles magically filled empty flutes. There were seats at the back of the room, and the three squeezed themselves onto a rigid couch, with Avery's brother perched on the arm._

 _Snape sipped his drink, instantly disgusted at the taste and overwhelmed by the fizziness of the liquid in his mouth. He swallowed it quickly, trying not to show his low class by spitting it out. He took another, slower sip as he watched Mulciber drain half of the glass. He listened to Avery's brother tell them about the kinds of people at the party, and the current activity ban that had been imposed on them while the Dark Lord was out of the country. Snape half followed, half concentrated on absorbing each and every detail of the house he'd seen so far, committing it to memory._

 _Avery's brother's discussion was disrupted when two men walked into the room, one tall and burly, the other shorter and portly. The smaller of the two grabbed a glass of water from the table and guzzled it, droplets rolling down the side of his face and onto his thick neck. The sight of the two men clearly excited Avery's older brother, who had grown a smile, and proceeded to beckon them over._

" _Look what the cat dragged in," Avery's brother called, amusement heavy in his voice as the two men strode over._

" _Well not so much a cat, more a dehydrated toad," the taller man replied, smirking slightly as the shorter man shot him an unimpressed look. "He couldn't handle the heat."_

" _I got heat stroke the other week," the shorter man said defensively. Avery's brother laughed._

" _Boys, meet two of my best school friends," Avery's brother announced as he stepped away from the couch and allowed the two men to meet their eyes. Snape's attention immediately fell to the identical tattoos on their arms. "Elias Wilkes, the man who taught me how to look up girl's robes." The shorter of the two gave a small wave, a lopsided smile forming between his blotchy cheeks. "And Rodolphus Lestrange, the man who taught me how to fight."_

" _Don't go telling them that, you'll give me a bad reputation," the taller man replied, with a tone of jest that implied mocking of Avery's fight technique. The younger Avery laughed._

" _Worse than the one you already have?" Avery's brother fired back, and Snape watched Lestrange raise his eyebrows, almost in warning._

" _At least people know not to gossip to my face." Snape wasn't surprised. He felt smaller just looking at the man._

" _This man must hold the record for the most Quidditch related fights at Hogwarts this century," Avery added, which led to all three of the older men laughing, clearly a shared reflection of memories._

" _I think Severus here is trying to break your record," said Mulciber, his amused tone falling in line with the banter of the conversation. Snape blinked as all eyes moved to him, hoping his cheeks wouldn't flush with embarrassment._

" _What position do you play?" asked Lestrange. Snape swallowed._

" _He doesn't," answered Mulciber, turning the attention onto him. "He just really hates one of the Gryffindor chasers."_

" _Fair enough," said Lestrange, giving Mulciber's answer an approving smile before turning to Avery's brother. "So how are you?"_

" _Fine," he replied, folding his arms over his chest. "Same old shit, Aidan begged me to bring him and his friends."_

" _I didn't beg," Avery argued stuffily, clearly unimpressed with his brother's comment._

" _Okay," his brother replied sarcastically. "Anyway, how are things with you?"_

" _Things are pretty good at the moment," Lestrange replied, and Snape watched him give Avery's brother a knowing smile_

" _Why?" Avery's brother replied, a mischievous smile forming. "Are you slipping something in her water?" Snape blinked in confusion, looking down at his lap._

" _Nah, I think she's just bored, with the ban and everything," said Lestrange, Snape making the assumption that they were talking about his wife._

" _She's restless, needs help getting rid of all her energy," Lestrange continued. The older Avery nodded. Snape decided to stare at the floor as he had no idea who they were talking about. "Plus she hates the heat, so I think her argumentative stamina has gone into venting about the weather."_

" _So that's good," said Avery's brother, nodding despite the traces of suspicion lingering in his eyes._

" _I certainly can't complain."_

" _Who are you talking about?" Mulciber butted in, which didn't surprise Snape. Mulciber wasn't the best at piecing information together._

" _His Mrs," Avery's brother answered, jabbing a thumb towards Lestrange. "Another school friend." A smirk developed on his face, which quickly turned into a laugh. "I can't wait for you to meet her."_

" _She's around somewhere," said Lestrange, his voice void of the sarcastic amusement that had laced Avery's comment, which in concurrence with their previous conversation, gave Snape the impression that she was rather unpleasant. "Probably in the garden with her sister." Lestrange turned towards Snape, Mulciber and Avery. "This is her sister's house, you see."_

 _Another wave of embarrassment rippled through Snape. He wondered if he'd ever stop feeling out of place amongst his rich friends and their richer Death Eater associates. He felt like the first leaf to turn brown and rot on a tree, ugly and obvious, but still hanging around the greener leaves in the hope none of them noticed._

" _That reminds me, I need to tell you what that idiot Malfoy did," Lestrange continued, which gave the realization that Lucius Malfoy was the one hosting the party. This made Snape's uneasiness dissipate some. Malfoy had always been kind and helpful to Snape when he was a prefect. He hoped that if they bumped into each other later, that he would remember his face._

" _He only went and dyed his hair green yesterday." This caused Wilkes and Avery's brother to both snort loudly. Mulciber too let out a barking laugh. "That's why he's walking around with that bucket on his head, have you seen it?"_

" _No, but now I have to," Avery's brother replied between snickers. "How'd he manage that?"_

" _Swimming pool," Lestrange answered. Avery's brother widened his eyes in understanding. "So now he's wearing this bloody massive hat. Honestly, if he wants us to stop taking the piss out of him all the time, he should make it a little less easy."_

 _The three older men laughed at the comment, which made a defensive angriness explode in Snape's chest. Their comments felt like the kind of statements that Potter and his gang would make, and Snape felt almost protective of Lucius, since he'd showed him nothing but decency when so few in his life had._

" _Aww look." Came a feminine voice from the other side of the room, distracting Snape from his bubbling frustration. "The gang's back together." Everyone turned at once, and Snape found himself looking at a strikingly attractive woman in a green silk dress, the skirts flowing behind her as she sauntered over to them._

" _All we need is Evan, but he's too busy having the most boring conversation I've ever had the misfortune to listen to with the Nott's and my sister," she continued, her voice gradually dropping its honeyed tone and twisting into something harsh and judgemental._

" _You say that about every conversation that's not about the cause, it can't be that bad," Lestrange said to the woman, who stopped a meter away from Wilkes._

" _This is his Mrs," Avery's brother clarified. The woman's eyes widened._

" _I can introduce myself thank you very much," she began, loud and irritated as she started to walk closer, pointing her finger at the older Avery. "And the next time you introduce me as someone else's side piece, I'll permanently hex your testicles to your face so you can be defined by a pair of balls too." She stopped just in front of him, her husband silently stifling a laugh from behind her._

" _Bellatrix Lestrange," she said, turning to face the boys, the fire from her voice replaced with exceptional charm. Snape studied her features, pale skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat and a mass of black curls that had clearly expanded in the humidity. He knew immediately that she had to be related to Sirius Black, they looked far too similar. The realization made his mouth dry, so he took a sip of his drink, regretting it immediately. "I didn't know you were brining in new recruits Avery, you know now is not the right time."_

" _That's exactly why I brought them," he told her, looking at the couch. "So they could get to meet everyone while we aren't quite so busy." The woman, Bellatrix, turned slowly to study the boys, biting her bottom lip as she raised her eyebrows in observation._

" _Let's see who we have here," she drawled, tilting her head slightly as she studied Avery. "Your younger brother, obviously." Her attention moved to Mulciber, her eyes hawk like in their intensity. "You're Mulciber's boy." Snape turned to look at Mulciber, who smiled under her scrutiny. The fact that it was about to become obvious that he was the odd one out, the only one who wasn't a pureblood with Death Eater family members made Snape's stomach drop. "We do tend to approach family of existing members first." Snape swallowed as her eyes landed on him. "And you, who are you?"_

" _Severus Snape," he said, making sure his voice didn't break. Heat began to creep into his cheeks as she narrowed her gaze._

" _I don't recognize your family name," she said, suspicion obvious in her voice._

" _He's not so much like us," Mulciber interjected, allowing Snape to shrink back behind him. "But he's exceptionally skilled at the dark arts."_

" _How skilled?"_

" _He's created his own curses and everything," said Mulciber, and Snape felt pride burst through his chest, accompanied by fondness for his friend. This just proved to him that sticking with them was the right choice, that they knew his worth and would stick up for him no matter what, despite the fact he wasn't rich or a pureblood like they were._

" _Interesting," Bellatrix said slowly, pursing her lips. "I'll remember your name, and pass this information to the Dark Lord." Snape felt his insides stir. "We don't usually aim to recruit until after graduation from Hogwarts, but I believe we will soon be making exceptions."_

" _You can't make promises like that," Avery's brother interjected. "You're not acting leader just because the Dark Lord isn't around."_

" _I've done a damn sight more for the cause then you ever have Avery," snarled Bellatrix, immediately turning away from them and gliding over to Avery's brother until they were inches apart. She was squaring up to him, propelled by rage. Awkwardness replaced the excitement coursing through Snape's veins._

" _Which I'm sure Avery won't argue," said Lestrange, who had subtly inserted himself between them, edging them apart. "And will consider that maybe you have insight and information that he does not." He glanced at Avery's brother, silently telling him to step down. He then turned to his wife. "As we do not have advanced knowledge of the workings against us in the Ministry, where Avery might." Bellatrix let out a heavy sigh, reluctantly dropping the issue._

" _Now what was it you wanted?" Lestrange asked his wife once the tension had diffused. "You surely didn't come in here just to find us, unless you're bored already."_

" _Well I'm incredibly bored, but that's not why I'm here," she replied, fanning her face once. "I came to get another drink, I'm getting sick of the taste of champagne." She then strode over to the food and drinks table at the other end of the room._

" _Nothing but water over here," she announced. "I'll have to find something stronger in the cellar."_

" _Can you bring some for us?" asked Avery cheekily, seemingly undisturbed by her being seconds away from attacking his brother moments ago._

" _Fuck no," she answered, lingering just inside the entrance arch. "You children can stick to your one glass of champagne." After that, she left._

" _Well," said Mulciber, which conveyed how unimpressed by her demeanour he'd been._

" _I'm going to follow her," said Lestrange, striding around Wilkes. "You're making me forget how much I hate parties Avery."_

" _Surely that's a good thing," Avery's brother replied._

" _And have people think I'm not a miserable bastard?" he joked, raising one eyebrow. Avery's brother laughed._

" _Nobody's questioning that," he said, putting one hand on his hip. "But am I not better company?"_

" _Not at the moment," replied Lestrange, grinning wickedly as he watched Avery's brother feign outrage. "And I'm not taking that for granted." Snape watched the exchange of knowing looks that passed between the two men before Lestrange left, the friendly banter reminding him of the bond he was starting to form with Avery and Mulciber._

" _She's delightful," said Mulciber sarcastically as soon as Lestrange was out of the room, grimacing slightly as he spoke._

" _She's the best fighter we have," Avery's brother told him, in a way that sounded almost scolding. This knowledge didn't surprise Snape, given her attitude. He could tell that many of the others were probably slightly afraid of her._

" _And everyone thinks she's having an affair with the Dark Lord himself," added Avery, smirking as he said it._

" _Aiden," His brother chastised, smacking the back of his brother's head. "Don't gossip." Avery winced as he rubbed at the spot where his brother smacked him._

" _Does he suspect?" asked Mulciber, clearly intrigued by the drama, where Snape couldn't care less._

" _Yup," answered Avery, somewhat smug until his brother shot him another warning look. "What? You think I don't listen to you two talking when he's at ours."_

" _It's a complicated relationship," Avery's brother said slowly. Snape figured that he probably knew them well, having been friends with them since school. "They fight like two dragons trying to steal the other's egg, but work pretty damn well in the field together."_

" _I certainly don't envy him," said Mulciber._

" _She's an exception, not the rule," Avery's brother assured him. "Most of us aren't like that." He then clapped once, striding in the direction of the door. "Now come, I should probably introduce you to more people."_

That had been one of the best afternoon's of Snape's life. For the first time, he was beginning to feel like he was truly part of something. Meeting everyone and getting a chance to network meant that they would be high priority for recruitment when the time was right. The idea made Snape slightly nervous, but also excited. With the Death Eaters, he would be able to use his knowledge and creations with full credit. The thought filled him with pride.

This party was much like the last one, except the house was ever so slightly smaller. Now that they recognized more faces, Avery's brother was happy leaving the boys talking to the partygoers. They ended up talking to two Eastern European sounding men, neither of whom Snape had met at Malfoy's party. They gave the boys glasses of champagne, and talked with them. Snape quickly grew bored with the older of the two men, who kept trying to joke that the other man had wet himself the day before. The subject of the joke looked as impressed as Snape felt.

The only positive Snape took from the conversation, was tips from the two men about how to make the champagne taste less revolting. They plucked one of the flowers from the house decorations and crushed it in the drink, and to Snape's surprise, it worked. He spoke to the younger of the two wizards about the science behind it, feeling like he was having a miniature potions lesson.

After the three of them finished their drinks and their conversation with the two men, Karkaroff and Dolohov, they went in search of more, Mulciber making jokes about their accidental matching hair. Both of the men had black hair that they'd pulled into small buns, but Dolohov's was too short and ended up looking like a duck's tail. Mulciber had clearly found it hilarious, but Snape was certain that he'd just drunk his champagne too quickly.

They followed one of the floating trays of bite sized appetisers, hoping it would lead them to a tray of champagne. Instead it led them to two men in the foyer, one inspecting the other's tongue. They stopped, exchanging confused glances until the men caught them, and yelled at them to leave. They ran out to the garden, where they eventually found the champagne tray. They all took a glass, Snape finding one of the flowers from inside and crushing it into his drink.

They found a quiet spot behind a hedge and sat down, talking about how exciting it was that they were spending their summer partying with Death Eaters, and how everyone back at Hogwarts was going to be so jealous. For the first time, Snape felt truly interested in their conversation, having never felt properly engaged with the idea of becoming a Death Eater until now.

He'd met them, heard from even the harshest and most avid supporters that his talent for creating spells and curses would make him a very valuable asset. He felt like his upbringing didn't matter, the fact he was only a half blood didn't matter. He felt valued by them, liking the idea of joining them when the time was right even more. He could picture it now, the camaraderie, educating the others on his spells and curses, it felt almost dreamlike.

Mulciber and Avery were staring down at Snape when he opened his eyes. He was hot, disoriented, and his face hurt.

"Wakey wakey lightweight," said Mulciber as he slowly came to his senses. He realized that he was lying down in the grass, with no idea how he got there. He couldn't even remember falling asleep, but obviously he had.

"Seriously?" added Avery jokingly. "Two glasses of champagne and you're falling asleep? What a disgrace."

"Can't take him anywhere," Mulciber chimed in. Snape gradually sat up, forcing himself to focus against the spinning in his head. Mulciber helped him to his feet, which was now impossible as his legs appeared to have been replaced with jelly.

"Did one of you put a jelly legs jinx on me?" he asked angrily as he tried to stand independently.

"No."

"Honestly Sev, if you're like this after two drinks, there's no hope for you," laughed Mulciber as he supported him. Avery, he noticed, was bent down, picking up Snape's empty champagne glass.

"Um mate," said Avery, a slight hint of concern in his voice. "You put something extra in your drink didn't you?"

"Yes," said Snape. "One of those flowers from inside."

"Did you get it from inside?"

"No," he answered. "I got it from one of the bushes."

"Yeah, you put its sister plant in your drink," explained Avery. "Which causes drowsiness and effects muscles when crushed."

"Shit," hissed Snape, panicked. "Am I going to be alright?"

"Yeah," answered Avery. "It's not lethal. I just think you need to focus a bit more in Herbology."

"Well at least now he won't be distracted by Evans," said Mulciber, starting to help Snape back towards the house. They stopped when Avery let out a gasp.

"What?"

"You might want to put a cooling potion on your face." Great. He's been sunburned.

"How bad is it?" Snape asked.

"It's only on one side of your face," said Mulciber, who was clearly trying not to laugh.

"Merlin's beard," exclaimed Snape.

"Don't worry," said Avery. "We'll get you inside so you can fix it without anyone seeing."

This reassured Snape, as the three of them headed slowly back to the house. He really did have a fantastic group of friends, who he wasn't going to ignore for a girl ever again. And he hoped that by next summer, they'd be doing this all again, and may even be working towards their own matching tattoos by that time.


End file.
